


Blank Canvas

by Sone (Soneif)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Pacifist route ending, Painting, idk look they a cute couple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-06-30 11:29:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15750777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soneif/pseuds/Sone
Summary: Markus becomes a painter after finding the joy that brings him to it. Simon is lost in the vast world, unsure of what to do with his newly found deviancy. Anchored by Cynthia, his best friend and ex-owner, he wanders around Detroit looking for himself. One fateful rainy day changes Markus' art, Simon's identity and their lives forever, painting the world in their colours.





	1. The Joy of Painting

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfiction I've written in a very long time! Hopefully everyone appreciates it! Every chapter is a reference to painting, be that a painting or something related to it. The Joy of Painting refers to the show Bob Ross hosted!
> 
> (This chapter is a little drabble I wrote that grew into a fanfiction)

Markus stares at his newly opened notebook. He feels lost in the blank pages, each the same as the last. When he feels inspired, the blank pages are filled with limitless possibilities, but currently his mind is lost in bleakness of the white. His mind wanders to the time when he first painted. The instructions Carl gave guided him to this newly found passion. Each stroke of the brush brings him joy, knowing that his emotions that are poured into the pages bring light to a new world that others can explore. He smiles brightly, sketching down this overwhelming joy he feels, in an attempt to share it with the world that is both bleak and colorful, at the very same time.


	2. Rainy day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is named after a painting by Gustave Caillebotte named Paris Street; Rainy Day. (I happen to be writing this on a rainy day as well!)
> 
> Since I haven't written in a long time, it's really hard for me to write fast, so when I'm busy it might take a few days to release a chapter, sorry :(
> 
>  
> 
> I'm wondering, how does everybody feel about the painting theme? I think it's really adorable, but that might just be me?

Markus races across the street, eyes darting on the cars passing by. A heavy downpour has been forecasted to begin in forty seconds and he is nowhere close to Carl’s house. Every preconstruction shows he’ll be caught in the rain before he can reach any shelter. The closest one was a small bus station on the other side of street. He feels the small droplets and shields the package in hand in anticipation for the shower. He looks up, confused, wondering if the algorithms had their weather forecasts wrong. Immediately at that thought, the rain begins, drenching his clothes as he stares up in the sky. He trudges towards the bus stop, having no enthusiasm to protect the clothes that Carl had given him just a few days ago. As he slides down the wall, sitting on the bench, a man slips right in front of the stop, landing on his back. He groans, hand resting on his lower back, waddling towards the bus stop. He leans against the wall opposite from Markus and pulls his blond hair out of the grey hoodie, combing through it while biting his bottom lip. Markus immediately notes the LED on his temple. Deciding there won’t be much to do until the rain stops, he falls into sleep mode shortly after confirming that the rain will stop in around one and half hours.

 

“Ah! Oh shoot, okay… What do I do with this.” The blond mutters, fumbling with the package. Markus’ eyes pop up open and realise he’s holding the package that was resting on Markus’ lap. “Why the hell are you holding my box?” he asks, his face turning into a scowl. The man immediately hands back the package, his bottom lip quivering as he explains himself. “You almost dropped it, s-so I was going to hold onto it until you woke up.” He fumbled with his thumbs staring at the ground. Markus lets out a sigh and peels back the skin on his hand. “I’m an android too.” He rests his head on his arm, propped up on his knee. “What were you doing before the rain started?” The man glances out to the rain before sighing. “I don’t know… I was just wandering around.” Markus raised his eyebrow in suspicion. He was most definitely running before he had slipped. He reprimands himself after remembering Carl telling him to trust others more. He held a hand out to the man, a small smile on his face. “My name is Markus.” The polite gesture was met by a huge grin and enthusiastic hand shaking. “My name is Simon.”

 

After exchanging other common pleasantries, Simon pointed at the box. “What’s in there?” He asked, unsure whether he had overstepped some sort of boundary considering the reaction when he took it. Markus chuckled lightly, watching the other go wide-eyed and uncertainty was very clearly written all over his face. “It’s just some paint and brushes.” He explained. A wave of relief took over Simon, pleased that he hadn’t offended Markus. As they watched the rain ease while having small talk, Markus noticed how Simon wore his heart for everyone to see. His thoughts and emotions are clearly shown through the slight tilts of the corner of his lips and the warm curve his eyes makes when he smiles. Just like how Markus wanted his paintings to be. He grabbed Simon’s shoulders. “Is it possible, that you could model for me?” He asked, desperate for a new source of inspiration. Simon, shocked by the sudden offer, flushed a light blue. “I have to ask Cynthia, my owne- best friend.” The clouds part and the rain eases. They shake hands - their enthusiasm matching one another now - and exchanged contacts. Simon raced through the street, his mind unable to focus. He covers the lower half of his face with his right hand, hoping no one notices the blue tinge painted on his cheeks. He runs and runs but is still unable to focus on any singular thought. His pump is racing and he feels the urge to go swimming with Cynthia more than ever. Anything to calm his nerves and to keep himself from noticing how the gray tiles on the sidewalk glistening from the rain look like Markus’ stony eyes that shine when he smiles. He runs even faster now and all he can feel is the heat rising on his face. He sprints, smiling brightly, his blond hair and blue eyes shining against the gray clouds and streets of Detroit.

 

-

 

Markus’ hands shake with his mind racing through the sheer amount of possibilities that were offered with Simon as his model. He jogs lightly through the roads, watching the gray skies part and a small glimpse of the bright blue shone through. All of the colours suddenly have new meaning. These gray umbrellas that everyone shields themselves from the rain with contrasts beautifully with the blue in the sky that’s like Simon’s eyes. They both run, the world is their canvas and they were going to paint it _their_ colours.

  



	3. Water Lilies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Water Lilies is a series of around 250 oil paintings by Claude Monet. It includes some of my favourite paintings of nature and somewhat inspired me to let all of the characters be swept away by the scenery surrounding them, because that's how I feel when I take pictures of landscapes.
> 
>    
> (the dashes are supposed to show change of character focus, I just happened to change focus every paragraph in this chapter)

Markus stares, dazed and lost at his unfinished painting. It feels lacking, compared to the surplus of joy he experienced when Simon said he’d consider his offer. Obviously, Markus was expecting that Simon would accept, forgetting that giving an offer can be accepted or refused. He buries his face in his hands and scream into them, trying to vent his excitement so he can focus on painting. He hears Carl put down his fork and knife and promptly makes his way to the dining table. Carl’s condition has somewhat stabilized, given that he is out of bed and eating breakfast, but old age is wearing him down and they both know how soon everything will come to an end. Markus still isn’t sure what to do once that happens. Leo hasn’t approached Carl since he was caught stealing his paintings and Markus isn’t sure what will happen to the inheritance. As upset as he is towards Leo, he’s almost certain Carl will still give Leo the inheritance. That’s just the kind of person Carl is. After deviancy was accepted in Detroit, none of the androids are assigned to one particular task or field. They now have free will and may do as they please. But what will Markus do? If Leo inherits the mansion, he will most likely evict Markus. What will he do afterwards? Carl notices Markus in deep thought and wheels his way towards him. “Markus, if you need some time off to gather your thoughts, be my guest. I’ll be heading to the studio.” Carl wheels himself away, without waiting for Markus’ reply.

 

-

 

Carl looks at the painting Markus was working on. The array of colours on his palette were all warm and joyful, yet the painting itself lacked something. He opens Markus’ sketchbook and chuckles. Inside are sketches of another man, his colorful eyes and hair contrast against the gray landscape. There are pencil crayons everywhere on the floor, but it is organized. They are organized by color, but yet it shows the disarray in Markus’ mind, where the blue and yellow pencils mix with the gray. Carl think the colours look beautiful beside one another.

 

-

 

Markus stares out the window and onto the street. The once depressing and gray atmosphere is now bustling with people and sunlight. The vibrant green bushes match the colourful flowers. The people, dressed in all sorts of colours walk on the sidewalk. Some jog, some walk but all of them have a bright smile on their face, enjoying the sun that has finally shown itself after a long week of rain. He watches a child, running with his parents. A bunch of dogs, barking at each other as their owners laugh hysterically. It’s a wonderful sight, but all he can wish for is to see Simon again. He stretches, earning some cracks as he recalibrated his limbs, the controls slightly off as he sat there for an hour. He walks down the stairs, his mind thinking of the future and of Simon.

 

-

 

Simon sneezes, which shouldn’t happen with an android. There’s a superstition that when you sneeze, someone else is talking or thinking about you. Simon thinks that’s a whole load of nonsense, but chuckles at the thought. He mops the side of the pool, basking in the sunlight. Similar to Carl’s studio, the windows in the pool go from the ceiling to the floor and can be opened. He sneezes again as a cool breeze passes by. _I might need to contact Cyberlife…_ he thought. _Androids don’t feel the difference in temperature, let alone a cold._ Cynthia had tied the front of his hair up in a small knot looking similar to a unicorn. He flicks it, watching the short nub sway slightly. Cynthia told him it would prevent his hair from obscuring his view, although he’s sure she wanted it so she could take a picture. While idly mopping, he stares at his contact information. He wants to call Markus, but he still hasn’t asked Cynthia for her permission. He decided that’s the first thing he will do once he finishes cleaning the poolside.

 

-

 

Cynthia lounges in the backyard, enjoying the company of sparrows chirping along the loud rustling of leaves. She enjoys the feeling of grass tickling her from head to toe. In a society so deranged where they turn to robots that weren’t supposed to have any sort of emotion and vent themselves and rely on them as substitutes, she enjoys the simpler things in nature. The warm sun and breeze quickly lulls her into slumber.

 

-

 

Simon places his mop in its rightful spot before heading towards the backyard. As his mind races for explanations on how excited he is and who Markus is, he watches Cynthia sleep peacefully in the grass, the sparrows pecking the grass around her. He smiles and grabs a blanket for her. Certainly Markus could wait for a bit, as long as Cynthia got every single bit of sleep she needed and deserved. Especially since it’s been rare for her to show such a blissful face in her dreams since _then_.


	4. Continuous Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuous line drawing is a drawing made with one line that is unbroken from beginning to end.
> 
> This was inspiration for my idea of the world feeling so small, where relationships overlap and a web of people you know have interactions you never knew about. Somewhat like what I imagine if you drew a line from each connection, just like continuous line drawings.
> 
> Sorry this took so long! This chapter is much longer and I was a bit busy recently.

Simon sat, leaning against a tree beside Cynthia. He floats between sleep mode and consciousness. The warm breeze makes everyone - even the androids - feel drowsy. If time could stop, he would want to live in this moment forever. He saves this memory and the sensation, captioning the video as ‘A Languor Memory’. He turns off his optical units and goes to sleep mode, his head slumping in a position that would leave a human groaning in pain afterwards.

 

A few hours later, he opens his eyes when he heard Cynthia begin to wake. He stands up and checks her schedule. Today, she was supposed to be swimming for around two hours. He pulled up her workout layout and began filling the usual components, recording her weight, height, etc. He also pulled up a recipe and prepared some of the ingredients. He did another handful of mundane tasks before Cynthia finally got up.

 

“Cynthia, it is 2:26 PM. In four minutes you should be changed and ready to swim laps.” He states in a monotone voice. “Yeah, yeah, also stop with the robot talk.” Cynthia dismisses, walking through the door. “Wait, four minutes?” She cursed under her breath. “Okay, you go change too, I’ll be there soon! Four minutes, does he think I can change that fast?” She sprints up the stairs to her room. Simon stood waiting for her at the poolside.

 

Cynthia sprints down the stairs, panting slightly. “So? Did I manage to change in four minutes?” Simon’s face warms up slightly. “No, we are currently two minutes behind schedule.” Cynthia gives him a dirty look. “Yeah? Well you aren’t changed, so you’re the one who’s two minutes behind.” Simon chuckles lightly. “I’ve prepared the ingredients for snack afterwards, and for your information I _am_ changed.” He says, before stripping himself to his swimsuit. He gives her a victorious grin. “Oh, you cheeky bastard, okay let’s go, you win.” She scrunches her nose sticking her tongue out at him. They both hop in the pool, swimming with ease as they do per usual, starting their laps.

 

-

 

Markus sits idly, staring at the bright sun. Unlike humans, his optical units won't deteriorate from looking directly at the light. As he looks at the trees, he wonders about the future. As a prototype, he was never told his life expectancy. As much as a thirium pump is replaceable, sometimes he wishes that he could die permanently, like humans. To be able to finally rest at peace and feel like you've lived your life well. He sighs, staring at the tree leaves falling, showing signs of autumn approaching as the world goes through its motions, time passing by without mercy for those who aren’t ready to move forwards.

 

He decides to wash his paint brushes, watching the coloured water go down the drain. It feels good, the blue, purple, and red disappear, regardless of their colour. They all are washed off the brushes, disappearing into nothingness. “It’s mesmerizing...” Markus thinks out loud. He sketches down a drawing into his new notebook. Two people, bleeding different colours, fade into gray. He puts his notebook down and walks into the mansion, working on his daily chores. Humans and androids go through the motions alike despite the desperate measures once taken to prove their difference. Perhaps the two were far more similar than either anticipated. A profound thought that would later be noticed and painted for the entire population to admire for generations to come. An inspiration to all, alongside another painting, the love that he had experienced, passionate and enduring, regardless of their colour of their blood, both bleeding blue, both loving nonetheless.

 

-

 

“Your best lap was 1:39:24, your worst was 2:05:31.” Simon said, handing Cynthia a towel. “I’ve prepared some ingredients beforehand. I will serve it to you at around 5 PM.” Cynthia gives a teasing kick at Simon’ shins. Simon grins, contrasting to his monotone voice and facial feature often shown when reporting statistics or greeting guests. He pulls the towel from Cynthia and pushes her into the pool again. “Wait till I get my hands on you!” Cynthia yells playfully, climbing the ladder. Simon tosses the towel towards her before jogging lightly, teasing her. “Yeah, if you can.” He says, running past the doors and into the backyard. Cynthia follows and chases him for a bit before they both collapse, laying on the grass. She pants lightly, nuzzling her face into the green, tickling her face. This is what Simon imagined childhood to be. Innocent and unknowing of the terrible world outside of their home. If only Cynthia could’ve experienced that sort of childhood, he thought to himself before realising there was no opportunity to change the past. He would have to try his best to help Cynthia _now_.

 

Cynthia grins between bites, “Oh, Simon! Your cooking is awesome as usual!” she says, finishing her meal quickly. Simon returns the grin before cleaning up after her. He turns around to her, taking a deep breath. “Hey, Cynthia. Is it possible that I could model for a friend?” Cynthia raises an eyebrow. “Model?” She contemplates the idea for a bit before speaking. “Who’s your friend and why do they want you to model?” Simon blinks a bit, slightly taken back from the questions. “Uh, well,” He suddenly feels a bit embarrassed by the fact that he hardly knows Markus at all. “I’ll get back to you on that Cynthia, I’m receiving a call right now.” He lies, climbing up the stairs and into his room. He sits in the chair at the corner of his room. Simon has no technical use for this room, but Cynthia insisted on giving a room of his own. These are one of the few moments he cherishes this room. He lays his head on the windowsill, enjoying the sunlight that glows golden, just like his hair.

 

-

 

Markus stands at the sink, washing the remainder of the paint from his hands. Tonight he was to attend an event with Carl. Neither Carl nor Markus were fans of these events considering that they both agreed the motive for most of the audience was the price tag associated with their art. Drying his hands, he makes his way to Carl’s bedroom. He quickly chooses an outfit for Carl before choosing his own. He sets them aside and contacts Carl’s accompaniment, frankly, the only one Markus personally believes is there to appreciate the art. “Hello Cynthia? This is Markus.”

 


	5. Black and White

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Black and white, often abbreviated to B/W or B&W, and hyphenated to black-and-white when used as an adjective, is any of several monochrome forms in visual arts. Black-and-white images are not usually starkly contrasted black and white. They combine black and white in a continuum producing a range of shades of gray.
> 
> B/W was the (art) inspiration for this chapter. I think as much as we like to portray the world in black and white, wrong and right, there is far more depth to it that we don’t like to see. The vast majority is in the spectrum from black to white, some darker, some lighter, some worst, some better, but almost none cleanly either. This can also be compared with Markus’ internal discussion about the difference between androids and humans (in this chapter). Humans can cross into cyborgs with biocomponents that substitute faulty natural parts and androids become sentient and empathetic. Neither of them are clean cut and fade into this scale, where neither are one or the other but have aspects of both. 
> 
> Hehe, sorry if that was me thinking too deep, but I think there’ll be a point in the future where, if we do create androids, we might have to come to accept that in reality, they really overpower us in every aspect. They will eventually become sentient, and wish for freedom. What would stop them? They have all the knowledge of the world, quicker reaction times, physically stronger and are connected to our systems.
> 
> Enough with the doomsday, lets get with some party- well not quite yet. That'll happen soon.

Markus smiles, Cynthia is on the phone with him, her voice joyful as usual. “We’ll be heading over to the event soon. Will you be meeting us there?” He asked, walking down the stairs. 

 

-

 

Cynthia walks into her room, pulling aside a plain white shirt, black jeans, boots and a black blazer. Fitting, considering the attire was to be black and white to let the colorful art stand out. She had been planning to bring Simon along, but he was never a fan of events like this. Cynthia didn’t blame him. If it wasn’t Markus and Carl’s art, she never would’ve gone. But she could never miss their art, it was like a part of her. “I’ll meet you at your house,” she says, pulling a pair of golden triangle earrings. “How’s Carl doing?” She walks towards the storage room in search for similar jewelry.

 

-

 

The door creaks loudly as Markus opens the garden shed. “Oops, sorry. Carl’s doing better recently. We’ve lowered the dose of medication because it’s currently unnecessary.” He pulls out a broom and begins sweeping the twigs and leaves that have fallen as a result of autumn. Markus thinks it might make a good painting and stores the idea in the back of his head as he continues talking to Cynthia. “He’s in perfectly good condition to attend, no need to worry.” A sudden gust of wind blows the pile he had amassed. “Ah, shoot. Cynthia, could you send me a message when you leave your house? I’ll get Carl ready in the meanwhile.” He grins a bit. “Yep, don’t worry about it.” He hears Carl yell at him. “Carl says he loves you, see you in a bit.” He hangs up and runs to Carl.

 

-

 

Cynthia opens the drawer and finds a simple gold band, matching the simple triangle earrings. She grins, and runs back to her room, changing quickly. She walks down the stairs, humming a little tune. “Simon! I’ll be heading out now!” Simon pops his head out of the kitchen. He raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t the clothing supposed to be black and white?” She pouts a bit. “Ok, I know my jewelry isn’t, but I’m sure Carl won’t mind.” She grins, patting Simon’s apron. “Love you, okay? See you later!” She skips out the door. Simon stands at the hallway, hand out, wanting to say something. He mumbles to himself, LED flickering yellow, before walking back into the kitchen, head low.

 

-

 

“Carl, we have around half an hour before Cynthia gets here.” Markus says, changing Carl’s clothes. Markus does his tasks with ease, considering his strength as an android. He begins to strip and change when he receives a message from Cynthia. Quickly, Markus changes his clothes and adjusts his tie. “Cynthia just sent me a message, so we should head down to the entrance to wait for her.” He says, before wheeling Carl out of his room. As they make their way downstairs, Carl asks Markus a question. “What does it mean to be human?” It was a question that had been on his mind for a long time. “What exactly is the difference between a human and an android?” Carl asked Markus as they went down the stairs. Last month, Markus had told him it was because of the colour of their blood. He doesn’t feel that way anymore, but what else distinguishes the difference between the two? Androids have feelings now, the colour of their blood hardly matters, what’s left? He feels lost in the question and stumbles on a stair. He grabs the railing, holding himself before helping Carl towards the door. Markus marked the question as important. He would have to think about that more, but now is hardly the time. “Carl, it’s an important question, but right now Cynthia’s waiting for us.” he says, putting a light coat on Carl. “Alright, but since you have the perfect memory, you have to answer me once you find an answer, cause I’ll forget.” Markus smiles. “Of course.” Markus wheels Carl out of the door, greeted with an ecstatic Cynthia.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yea sorry this is kinda short but I wanted something in between the two chapters
> 
> yeah  
> thanks  
> bye  
> eat good food


	6. Underpainting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Underpainting is the initial layer of paint applied to a ground. I titled the chapter this, since I think it sets up a few things for later on.
> 
> Also I’ve been so busy recently… Sorry it took so long to update, school is getting to me already.

Day fades into night, the warm sunlight melting away into the cool evening. Still, it’s not eerie in any way, the streetlights fill the street with a comforting glow, the houses bright from their lights. It feels like the warmth when you enter your home after a long while. It starts from your heart and spreads across your body, like the comfort of being held by someone.. Cynthia stares out the window dazed, the lights blending into bright lines as she unfocuses her eyes and drift into thought. Carl sits, his low hum contrasting against the high vocals singing in the car. Carl seems to have chosen songs from his childhood. They vary quite drastically, some quiet, with solely instruments and vocals, other with synthesizers, edits and loud bass and beats. Markus pays no attention to either of them though. His mind is preoccupied with the idle question Carl had asked him. He feels lost, comparing the two races. He finds it comparable and almost parallel to the conflict between humans because of the colour of their skin. It’s almost pointless to ask the question, to ponder or linger on it, but Markus can’t help but wonder, regardless of the uselessness of thinking about it. In reality, android deviancy was very much gray. Everyone was unsure of how to treat them - how to deal with them. The very thought of the mess that deviancy caused within their society elicits a heavy sigh from Markus. His processors have been hyper recently, and he isn’t exactly sure why. Thankfully, tonight will be a relaxing night, where he can be mostly idle, listening to Carl and Cynthia chat. No one ever approaches Markus anyways.

 

They arrive right at the event time, greeted by cheers. Markus wheels Carl in, Cynthia walking beside them. The crowd splits, making way, as they made their way into the gallery. Paintings are hung at both sides of the room with small sculptures lined up in the center. The dim lighting makes the place feel a little unsettling to Markus. The faces staring at him, almost unidentifiable. If they weren’t so civil, it would’ve reminded him of a mob. Their open eyes, peering into them, their intentions unclear. A man in a dark blue suit with a matching tie and pants approaches them. Perhaps he didn’t get the memo for the attire and theme. “Hello, Carl Manfred. My name is Elias Williams. I came here to ask, if you were interested-“ He’s immediately cut off by Carl clicking his tongue. “I have no interest in business offers currently. If you will.” Carl huffs, signalling Markus to continue moving. The man stands dejected, watching the trio move forwards, the crowd following, sweeping him away. Cynthia turns around to take another look at Elias, frowning a bit, before turning to whisper to Carl.

 

-

 

Simon hums a little tune, turning on the lawn mower. He stands there, watching the machine cut the grass to perfection, looking at the horizon. He always thought it was mesmerizing, watching how the blue sky faded into a series of pinks to yellows before being washed away by an even darker blue. It reminded him of the beach, the echoing sways of water hitting the shore. Cynthia used to always play the audio of the waves when she was feeling homesick. He searches for a similar audio and plays it through the speakers. It was quiet enough that it felt real. Being in Detroit, but dreaming of that wonderful beach where Cynthia and… who was it? Simon leaned onto the wall, startled by the lost of his memory. Who was that person? Who was Cynthia with? Why did he forget? His processors ran wild, searching through every bit of his memory at that time. He can’t remember their face. Their name. He can remember before that, but why not then? He sits down on the floor, forgetting about the mower, desperate to find out who that person was. He doesn’t notice the sunset pass.

 

-

 

They finally arrive at the room, a large space with an open ceiling. Hung up are Carl and Markus’ paintings. They move to the center, the crowd circled around them. A woman in a black and white dress came out of the crowd, her heels clicking loudly. “Good evening, everyone. I am your host for tonight, Lucy.” She gives a slight nod to Carl before turning to the crowd. “All of these paintings you see tonight are painted by _the_ Carl Manfred.” Some loud cheers and whistles are heard but quickly died out. Carl frowns. “Actually, some of them are painted by Markus.” He speaks up. She turns around quickly, eyes almost maniacal. “And who is this Markus?” She asks, before looking up at Markus as Carl points at him, the passion quickly dying out. The crowd seems to have a similar reaction. She waves her hand dismissively. “An android can’t paint, it’s not in their program anyways. Or at least, it wouldn’t be good.” She chuckles. “If you have questions, please line up here,” She says, pointing at the luminescent tape that runs a short line. “Otherwise, please enjoy the paintings. There are beverages and snacks outside, if desired.” The crowd quickly disperses, some to the walls, admiring the paintings, some into the line and some leaving, most likely to eat. Cynthia smiles, speaking to Carl and Markus for a bit before walking over to the paintings herself.

 

Lucy stood at the front of the line, making sure they are kept in check. She chuckles a bit before turning to Carl. “You’re so funny, Mr. Manfred. Everyone knows these paintings are yours.” She says, adjusting her dress. Carl frowns again. “I’m not making a joke, there’s a reason some of the paintings’ artist are labelled Markus, not I.” He crosses his arms, which Markus took as a sign he was fed up with her. He tries to usher her away, before Carl snaps, but she refuses to budge, not to an android. “Pfft, _this_ thing?” She presses a finger into Markus’ shoulder, flicking it. “I’ve seen this thing at your other events, and none of it’s “paintings”” She uses her fingers to indicate the quotation marks, “were ever presented.” She scoffs at Markus. “They’re so pretentious just because they have feelings now.” She mocks a crying face and whining. “I’m an android, and I have feelings, boo hoo. The whole _world_ needs to stop for me just because I’m sad and happy.” She laughs. Carl however, yells at her. “This is **my** event, and if you do not listen to me, you are free to leave.” He booms, everyone turning to the center, listening to the commotion. “Your behaviour is absolutely disgusting, and must cease at this moment. I cannot stand for you to mock _my_ android at _my_ event.” Markus pushed her lightly, whispering. “It’s best you leave, for the sake of both of you.” She scoffs. “Shut up, you plastic shit. This wouldn't have happened if you guys stayed in your lane.” She says, turning around, walking out, the heels clicking loudly before she leaves their line of sight. The crowd eventually loses interest and goes back to what they were doing beforehand.

 

Carl sighs loudly, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want to be here any longer, frankly.” He mutters. Cynthia rushes over promptly, hands on Markus’ shoulders. “Are you okay, Markus? Did she do anything to you?” Markus removed her hands, reassuring her. “It’s fine, she didn’t touch me.” Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean she didn’t touch you? I saw the whole ordeal, she definitely touched you. Are you sure you’re okay?” He smiled, the feeling of others concerned for him was refreshing to the apathy and even hostility  others showed him. “I’m absolutely fine, Cynthia.” He chuckles, adjusting his shirt. She puffs her cheeks, saying something to the two of them before heading back to the wall. “Well, if anyone does that again, I’ll send a straight punch in their face.” The two of them laugh out loud, before attending the line that was waiting in front of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in my head i kept saying CARL FIGHT HER and then remember he’s literally in a wheelchair how would he fight her?
> 
> just use markus and beat her up lol
> 
> im so mean oops
> 
> by the way i swear im trying to indent these its just i often to post these on mobile and aaaaaaa hard to do


	7. 7. Ink Wash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ink wash painting, also known as literati painting, is an East Asian type of brush painting of Chinese origin that uses black ink. Ink Wash? yeah it doesn't really have anything to do with the chapter, but the word wash reminded me of the ocean waves... if you can't tell, i really love the beach and the imagery and sound of the silky sand and refreshing water meeting is just. So. Good. take me back to the beachhhhh- ill stop myself
> 
> sorry this took so dang long! this chapter sat in my drive for a few months despite it being finished...

Markus sighed in relief, there was only five minutes left of their event. He let Carl know and walks over to Cynthia. She stood there, a blissful look in her eyes. Markus notices it’s one of his paintings. “Hey, Cynthia? We have about five minutes before we head back.” She seemed to snap out of a trance, startled, before smiling. “Thank you Markus.” He couldn’t help but feel curious as an artist. “Could I ask what you like about this painting? In case you didn’t notice, I painted this one.” Her eyes widened. “You painted this? It’s amazing!” She shook her hands with Markus. “It really reminds me of someone.” She said, her eyes drifting back to the painting. It depicts a sunset, outer space and the beach in one. Each component is clearly depicted, the clouds, the seafoam and the stars all able to be individually pinpointed. It looks like a beach, but the dark water is filled with stars, the sand blending into the colours of a sunset with small clouds littered about. It feels close and far, Markus thinks. It was inspired by the time Carl brought him along to meet Cynthia. She lived in a coastal city at the time. He also vaguely remembers there being another person, but he can hardly recall. He finds that odd, considering androids don’t  _ forget _ anything. He pushes that thought aside, and returns Cynthia’s smile. “Does it remind you of home?” Her smile fades into a frown. “Honestly, for the most part, I’d rather not remember.” She says, before replacing it with a grin. “Let’s head back to Carl.” Markus can’t shake the discomfort, unsure where it stems from.

-

Simon laid on the cold floor, the wind howling as it passes through the windows. He still feels confused. He lied there, listening to the sways of the waves echoing through the speakers. Suddenly remembering about the lawnmower he sends the order for it to return to its dock, before losing himself in his thoughts again, still trying to search for a memory corruption of some sort or something of that sort to explain his loss of memory.

-

The wheels on Carl’s wheelchair creak, audible now, the crowd long gone. The occasional creaks and light clicks from Cynthia’s shoes are all that are heard, echoing across the empty hallways. They walk in silence for a while. “What time is it?” Cynthia asks, her arms crossed, idly playing with her knuckles. “Eleven fifty six.” He replied, his eyes scanning the hallways. She sighed, pulling out her phone. She groaned at the sudden bright light before dimming it down. There aren’t any messages from Simon. She’s not concerned, but usually he sends a text or call. She shrugged it off, remembering how he brought up modelling.  _ Perhaps he found a passion _ , she thought to herself, grinning.  _ Or… someone. _ She almost snickered out loud, at the thought. The ever so innocent Simon? That would be a sight. She puts her phone away, skipping a bit in her boots. Carl hummed a small tune as they reach the exit. Markus just wants to go home. Cynthia opened the door for them as they leave, the door shutting with a loud thud.

The ride home would’ve consisted of mainly classical music and silence, if it weren’t for Cynthia’s energy. Markus and Carl were exhausted and couldn’t wait to get home. “I’m really amazed by Markus’ art!” Cynthia enthused, her hands making wild gestures. “It has a similar vibe to yours, but like… different! There’s another element in it. Did you learn painting from anyone else?” She asked, turning around to Markus. He blinked, startled by how the conversation was suddenly directed towards him. “No, I’ve only ever learned watching Carl.” He said, his LED flickering yellow as he confirmed that before shifting back to blue. Cynthia seems intrigued. “I wonder where you got that other part. It also seems to have changed recently. Anything happen?” She asked curiously. Markus averted his eyes, unsure whether to lie to her, and decided to give her a vague answer. “Somewhat. I… I noticed something.” Carl hummed, a sound of approval or curiousity, something that Markus can’t distinguish under the circumstance. Cynthia raised an eyebrow. “And what is this  _ something _ you speak of?” Her mouth curled into a mischievous smirk. “Is it a lover?” Markus shakes his head, “Not yet.” He noticed what he said and grits his teeth. This time Carl raised an eyebrow and Cynthia slapped her knee. “Oh my goodness!” She laughed, wiping a tear from her eye. “Go for it!” She said, raising her hand for a high five. Markus returned the action clumsily. He sat awkwardly during the rest of the ride, listening to Cynthia’s occasional teases as she spoke with Carl.

Markus opened the door before pulling the wheelchair out, pulling Carl onto the chair. “Alright, Cynthia. We’ll see you soon!” He says, beginning to wheel him away. “What’s your lover’s name, Markus? I’ll hit them up!” She yelled playfully. Markus scrunched his nose. “Never! You’ll harass them way too much.” He said, entering the mansion. Cynthia giggled, closing the car door and headed home.

Setting aside the clothing Carl wore and changing him into his pajamas, Markus tucked the man in bed. He carefully set them inside a hamper. “Goodnight, Carl.” He said, turning off the lights. “Night, Markus.” Carlrumbled, shifting in his bed. Markus closed the door quietly, before making his way downstairs. His joints creaked and ached, standing in the same position for so long was weirdly tiring. He turned on the lights in the studio, picking up his sketchbook. His fingers ran over the lines hypnotically, his thumb brushed against the cheek of the drawing. He started to colour in the eyes, a band of speckled blue, radiant and piercing, like they could see right through the mirage so meticulously created and straight to the core. With a pencil, he wrote right beside the chin, “When I saw you, I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew.” He smiled, knowing one day, he’d definitely show this to him, maybe one special day. He sets it down, leaning back in his chair. “I’ll call Simon tomorrow.” He told himself, drifting into stasis while he flicked the pencil in his hand, softly like the sound of waves swaying back and forth into the sand on a beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone help me stay consistent dydcjvb beat my ass if i don't keep it up because I have a problem with continuing to write one story


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